


Over the Hill and Beyond the Moon

by vanillalime



Category: American Idol RPF, Rymon
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday Sex, Christmas Eve, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6538747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalime/pseuds/vanillalime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan struggles with his insecurities as he faces his fortieth birthday.  Simon makes him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Hill and Beyond the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Dreamwidth account in September 2013. Written for Dreamwidth's just_jes who, once upon a time, wrote The Most Awesome Prompt Ever.

**December 13, 2014.**

**PROLOGUE**. Wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, Ryan stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom and exhaled a deep, heavy sigh.

He began by examining everything above the waist.   _Things looks good_ , Ryan thought.   _No, GREAT._   Ryan's pecs were firm and tight, and the smattering of chest hair emitted just the right degree of masculinity.  His biceps were bigger than ever, due in part to his religious use of the New & Improved Deluxe Shake Weight For Men.  Thanks to regular facials (and the occasional trip to the doctor), his face remained youthful, and he had yet to find a gray hair.  

Looking downward, he could see that his legs looked great, too.  He had the quads and calves of a runner, which he continued to be despite the ever-increasing protestations from his knees.  

Ryan braced himself, and then forced himself to focus on his belly.  It had been a life-long, up-and-down battle to keep it under control, but it was in an acceptable condition at the moment.  Even though it had grown substantially as a result of Thanksgiving, his subsequent steady diet of pulverized kale and beets for lunch seemed to have done the job of getting it back down to a proper size, at least for now.

But then Ryan's eyes narrowed as they settled on his hips.  He sighed again.  There was no doubt about it, they had gotten wider.

The first sign had been when he felt that his underwear was too tight.  Initially, he blamed it on the housekeeper who did his laundry.  He figured that she had probably adjusted the heat on the dryer to a setting that was too high.  When the new replacement underwear was just as bad, he blamed it on the manufacturers for changing the sizing.  (“They’re always fudging the measurements.”)  But then, even though his stylist had never said a word to him, Ryan had slowly noticed over the last several weeks that all of his suit pants, which had always been tightly cut, had been replaced with new ones.  He had begun to suspect that it wasn't just his underwear, after all; it was him.

Ryan turned around, and looked back over his shoulder into the mirror.   _Jesus Christ, look at how big his ass was!  When did this happen?  HOW did this happen?!_  

He took several steps forward, watching his reflection as he walked away from the mirror.   _Holy shit!  It looked like he was waddling!  He looked like a goddamn duck!_

Ryan looked away from the mirror and rubbed his temples.  Now was not the time to get upset.  He had other things to think about.  In one hour, Ryan needed to leave for his birthday party, a party that he did not particularly want to attend.  He started to get dressed.

People had been expecting him to celebrate his fortieth birthday in a grand manner, so he had felt obligated to do something about it, his own feelings about the event be damned.  Ryan was never one to get particularly excited by his birthday, perhaps because it so closely coincided with Christmas, and this milestone was no exception.  Truth be told, he did not feel like celebrating it, for reasons he could not quite understand.  

Ryan had been pondering the whole thing for the last several weeks, asking himself exactly why was he feeling so anxious about turning forty.  He should be feeling nothing but satisfaction.  Throughout his life, he had set incredibly ambitious goals, and he had done a remarkable job in achieving practically every one of them.  Then he had begun to wonder if that was part of the problem.

Was there anything more that was still left for him to accomplish in his life?  Certainly, his media conglomerate could always be bigger and better.  There were still shows to create and produce, programs to host, concerts to sponsor.  And he still enjoyed what he was doing, all of it.  But Ryan couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing:  that next big goal in his life.  Which, at the moment, was undefinable.

As a result, Ryan had felt that the only way he could deal with any kind of birthday party was to handle it as if it was a business opportunity.  He had decided to fold his "birthday party" into an expanded version of the annual holiday party he always gave for the employees at his production company.  It seemed a logical (if perhaps slightly tacky) solution.  This arrangement also allowed him to have complete control over the festivities, something he felt strongly about despite the offers of help from friends.  Ryan still had occasional flashbacks to the appalling gaudiness of the entertainment at Simon's fiftieth birthday party.  He was terrified by visions where performers dressed as female genitalia would dance on a stage in front of his mother.  No, he would be doing all the planning himself, thank you very much.

Pulling on his pants, Ryan mentally ran through the guest list.  He had invited all sorts of people, encompassing the gamut of his far-reaching media empire:  everyone connected with RSP, obviously; the radio show crew; his bosses and friends at FOX and  _American Idol_ ; the investors from Clear Channel; associates from the upper echelon at NBCUniversal and Comcast; the new AXS channel gang; and representatives from a variety of sponsors.  Fellow entertainment media entrepreneurs would be there as well, along with a handful of entertainment reporters to ensure that the party would receive great media coverage.  Many of his true personal friends would also be there, along with his family, of course.  And, despite the fact that they were very rarely seen together in public anymore, Simon was making an appearance, too.

Ryan wasn't sure how long Simon would stay.  It wasn't really his crowd, and Simon often didn't have the patience to deal with situations where someone else was the focus of attention.  There was another reason, too.  A year ago, after just three seasons, FOX had pulled the plug on the US version of  _X Factor_.  Despite Simon's best efforts,  _X Factor_  had never met ratings expectations, and Simon had taken the failure of his show hard.  Although his UK shows were still successful, he had lost his Midas touch in the US market.  Simon’s limited time in LA this last year had been spent trying to create and sell new shows, with rather poor results.  He was not in a particularly celebratory mood lately.

Thankfully, the turmoil in Simon's professional life had not had a significant impact on his relationship with Ryan.  Ryan had learned a long time ago to sense when an unhappy Simon needed a sympathetic ear (rarely) and when he needed to be left alone (often).  The frequent distances between them, whether due to geography or from a need to give the other person his space, had always presented difficulties.  Over the course of their long relationship, they had become experts at getting through the rough patches, and they were getting through this one just as they had countless times before.

So, the fact that a moping Simon was at least making the effort to attend the party was encouraging.  Ryan had considered suggesting to Simon that he could use the party as a networking opportunity of his own, but he had decided that he didn't want to risk insulting him with the idea.   And if Simon only wanted to put in a token appearance tonight, Ryan was completely fine with that--this party was more for business than pleasure.  Besides, he and Simon had other plans for his actual birthday, and he was confident that those plans would help put their world back on track. 

On a related note, there was to be one conspicuous absence from the party.  Since his break-up with Julianne, Ryan had gone back to publicly dating various swimsuit models and aspiring actresses and Playboy playmates, but none of them had evolved into high-profile, publicist-approved “relationships."  Ryan was tired of that game, and there would be no “girlfriend” accompanying him tonight.  His team had recently written soon-to-be-planted stories offering an explanation:  Julianne had left Ryan heartbroken and would forever be considered as The One Who Got Away.... because of her, Ryan was swearing off all women and serious relationships for the rest of his life, devoting his life to his work instead.

He had thought he could use his lengthy relationship with Julianne to explain why he would no longer date, and to show why he would never get married.  But lately there was something about this impending strategy that had been bothering him.... the realization that the public would believe that, at the age of forty, he was past his dating prime.

Ryan sighed once more as he finished getting dressed.  He carefully fastened the Lelo cufflinks that had once been a gift from Simon on another birthday, one that seemed so long ago, and put on his jacket.  He then took one last glance at himself in the mirror.  His shoulders slumped.  He felt old, and fat, and adrift in his professional life.  As he slowly walked out of the room, two questions weighed heavily on his mind:  

_Would he ever reach a point in life when what he had was enough?_

and

_Did these pants make his butt look big?_

  
*************************** 

**December 24, 2014.**

**BREAKING DAWN.** Ryan felt someone shaking him, and a familiar voice called out:  "Good morning, Starshine!  The earth says 'Hello'!"  

Ryan groaned as his mother opened the blinds in the preserved bedroom of his childhood home.   _Was he turning forty today, or four?_

"Do you know what I was doing at this time 40 years ago?" Connie asked.

 _Oh, no.  Not this story again._   "Looking for Dad down in Piedmont Park?" Ryan suggested.

"Ryan!  No!" Connie exclaimed, but she laughed.  Then she stopped and said, "Piedmont Park wasn't like that back then."

 _That's what you think_ , thought Ryan.  Changing the subject, Ryan asked, "Why are you waking me up so early?"

"You should be on east coast time by now!  There are things to do!  Places to go, people to see, gifts to open, a dinner to make!  Time to get moving!"  With that, Connie turned on the bright overhead light and walked out of the room.

Ryan sat up on the edge of the bed, squinting from the light, and groaned.   _Today was going to suck.  It was going to be the worst birthday ever._   He put his head in his hands.  He really wished he was on a beach.  In Barbados.  With Simon.

There had been a change in plans.  He and Simon were supposed to spend five blissful days together in the sun and sand at Simon’s Barbados retreat, then, on his birthday, fly to Atlanta so that they could celebrate Christmas with his family.  But the day before they were to leave LA for Barbados, Simon had received news that his elderly mother had suddenly taken ill.  Simon had dropped everything, and left for London, with no idea of when, or if, he would be able to reschedule their trip together.  

Ryan had seen the paparazzi photos of a grim-looking Simon as he arrived back at his London home, then had received a terse text shortly thereafter that read, “ _Mum doing better.  Busy.  Will call on your birthday_.”  Certainly, it was a relief to hear that Julie appeared to be out of danger, and if there was one thing Ryan understood, it was the priority a mother took over all other things in life.  Nevertheless, to say that he was disappointed in this turn of events would be a huge understatement.

Ryan had contacted a few close friends to see if they were available for a quick trip away to Cabo, or Vegas, or anywhere, even if for just a couple of days, so that he could have something to distract himself from this unfortunate turn of events.  But, unsurprisingly, everyone was preoccupied with their own holiday festivities to make any last-minute change in plans.  So, he gave up and simply flew to his parent’s home a few days early.  His mother and sister, taking pity on him, had organized an impromptu family trip down to Miami to begin the day after Christmas, a little something to help re-charge his batteries before heading up to New York for New Year’s Eve.   _Better than nothing_ , Ryan had thought.  It would help, but it wasn’t what he wanted, that’s for sure.

Ryan slowly showered, dressed, and went downstairs to the kitchen.  He mother, sister, and grandmother were all there, chattering away about nothing.  He guessed that his father was probably hiding somewhere.

His mother turned to him.  “You should eat only a small breakfast,” Connie instructed.  “Your lunch date with the boys is in just a couple of hours.”

Ryan grunted an acknowledgement.  His mother had organized an early lunch for him at a local restaurant with a close group of old friends from high school.  Ryan did his best to keep in touch with them, but he was lucky to see them once a year, if that.  They were all married, or divorced, with families of their own now, and he no longer had anything in common with any of them.  But they were nice guys, and he hoped it would be fun.  If nothing else, it would help kill the day.

~~~~~~ 

Ryan returned home from his lengthy lunch in a better mood.  Talking with his old buddies had been enjoyable after all; they were always so impressed with the people he knew, the gossip he heard, the places he visited.  It was nice to be around people with whom he could let his guard down a bit, and to not have to pretend so much.  They had known and liked and accepted him long before he became who he was today, and they knew how to keep his old secrets.  They were also polite enough not to ask too many of the wrong questions.

Unfortunately, Connie’s mood did not reflect his own.  The moment he walked through the door into the living room, she practically exploded.

“Where have you been?!” she exclaimed.  “I had no idea you were going to be gone so long!  How long does it take to eat lunch?  We need to open your birthday presents!  And start dinner!”  She got up quickly and left the room in a huff.

Ryan stood there, utterly shell-shocked.  He looked over at his father, who had witnessed it all, sitting in the comfort of his lounge chair.  

“What was that all about?” Ryan asked him.

Gary just shrugged.  “She’s got a schedule.  You better stick to it.”

Vaguely, Ryan began to think about Simon’s schedule, calculating London time and wondering why he hadn’t called yet.  He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, as the next thing he knew, his family had all gathered in the living room.  He was led to the couch, and gifts were placed in front of him.  

“Why don’t we wait to do this until after dinner, like we usually do?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, we don’t want to worry about running late for church.  You know how parking is always so crazy on Christmas Eve,” Connie replied with a strained smile.  “And everyone will probably be too tired by the time we get home,” she added, with a pointed glance in the direction of Ryan’s grandmother.

“Got it,” Ryan answered.  He settled in and began to open his presents.

First up was a lovely new tie bar from his Nana.  Ryan gave her a thank-you kiss and promised to wear it on camera on New Year’s Eve.

Next were the usual smaller gifts from his parents:  a Starbucks gift card, sweat socks, new underwear.  Ryan grimaced when he saw the size on the package of underwear.  He quickly moved on to the next present in front of him.

It was a scrapbook, hand-made by his mother, of Ryan’s career.  On the cover was a picture of Ryan holding his Emmy for  _Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution_.  Inside, the book began with photos of him at his first job, when he was a 16-year-old radio DJ intern at Atlanta’s STAR 94.  The book ended with a promo shot from  _Kylie and Kendall Become Co-Eds,_ his most recent production credit.  In between were photos and clippings representing practically everything he had ever done.  The early gigs, the obscure TV appearances, the radio shows, all 13 seasons of  _American Idol_ , the daytime talk show, E! News, the shows produced by RSP--she had captured it all.  Ryan couldn’t believe how much was in there.   _My God, she’s remembered everything!_  he realized.

“We’re very proud of you, Ryan,” Connie said quietly.  Ryan, feeling guilty for being annoyed with his mother just a few minutes earlier, was overwhelmed.

“Don’t cry!” his sister exclaimed.  “You still need to open my present!”  Meredith handed him the final package to unwrap.

It was another scrapbook, but this one was all about the Ryan Seacrest Foundation, Ryan’s non-profit organization that built broadcast media centers in children’s hospitals.  They now had six centers in operation across the country, with two more in the works.  Inside the book were the standard photos of Ryan and his family at the openings and meeting with patients.  But Meredith had also assembled candid pictures of the kids messing around inside the broadcast booth or playing with the many celebrities that visited; thoughtful testimonials from doctors, nurses, and parents about the positive impact of the centers; drawings and hand-written notes from the children expressing their enjoyment at what he had created.  The pride Ryan had felt looking through the scrapbook of his career was nothing compared to what he felt now.  By the time he reached the end of the book, the tears were flowing freely.

After a moment, Connie broke the mood.  “Well!  I know what will perk you back up!” she said.  “Come and help me get dinner started!”  She looked at her watch, got up, and walked out of the room.

Ryan stared after her.  “Stick to her schedule, right?” he mumbled quietly.

Meredith nervously looked at Ryan.  “Remember, this is an emotional day for her, too, you know,” she replied, a little defensively.

“Yes, but if anyone should be feeling stressed out, it’s me,” Ryan sighed.  Nevertheless, he got up and slowly walked toward the kitchen.  He prayed that she had remembered to buy all the ingredients for the Caesar salad.

***************************

 **TWILIGHT.**   Ryan was rubbing the inside of the fondue pot with garlic while his mother was shredding the cheese when the doorbell rang.

“Who in the world would come calling at a time like this?”  Ryan asked.

Nana, who had been watching them from the kitchen table, suggested, “Maybe it’s a sexy pizza delivery guy who’s got the wrong house.”

“Nana!” laughed Ryan.

“I’m sure it’s just a nosy neighbor who didn’t get a chance to stop by and see Ryan earlier,” Connie answered.  “Everyone is always asking about him.  Ryan, go answer the door.”

“Uh, I’m kind of busy at the moment,” Ryan replied.

“Well, so am I.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“Out on the deck, getting the grill ready.  Meredith is out there, too.”

The doorbell rang again.

“They’re your neighbors,” Ryan pointed out.

“But they’re here to see you,” countered Connie.

“You don’t know that.  Besides, my hands are full of garlic!”

The doorbell quickly rang a third time.  Clearly, whoever was out there wasn’t going anywhere and was losing their patience.

Nana, sitting at the kitchen table, moved to get up.  “Oh, sure, why don’t you make your 90-year-old grandmother be the one to go answer the door,” she said.

Ryan put his hands up in defeat.  “Okay, okay!  I’ll get it!” he said in exasperation.

He wiped his hands on a towel and left the room, silently cursing.  The last thing he felt like doing right now was making small talk with some nosy neighbor he didn’t even know.  Nevertheless, he began to magically transform himself as he walked to the front door, preparing to use his toothy on-camera perma-smile and his radio voice.  The doorbell rang a final time just as he reached for the doorknob.   _Jesus, whoever is out there sure is pushy!_

Ryan opened the door.  And there stood Simon.  

“Surprise!” Simon cried out.  He raised a party puffer to his mouth and blew it directly in Ryan’s face.  “Happy Birthday!” 

Ryan stood there, mouth open, in complete disbelief, and looked back at Simon with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

Simon stood there with a grin a mile wide on his face.  “I would have worn the party hat, too, but I didn’t want to muss my hair,” said Simon, pointing upwards.  “I also hate how that thin piece of elastic cuts into your chin.”

Ryan continued to stand there, speechless, although he was vaguely conscious of the fact that his mouth was turning up in a huge smile of its own.

After a moment, Simon said, “Well, I guess I’ll let myself in,” and he walked past Ryan into the house.  “I was standing out there for quite a while, you know.”

Ryan closed the door and turned around.  His senses were returning, and his brain began functioning again.   He reached out to embrace Simon in the warmest possible hug.  Without a word, Simon kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him back.

Ryan silently pulled back, with a smile as bright as the sun.  Searching for something--anything--to say, Ryan looked around and gestured, “Where are my presents?”

Simon laughed.  “What are you talking about?  My presence is your present!”

“Hmm,” Ryan said.  Still grinning, he asked mischievously, “Do you come with a gift receipt in case I need to return you?”

Simon leaned in close to him and quietly said, “Don’t worry, darling.  I’m sure that what I’ve got for you is just the right size.”

Ryan swallowed and raised an eyebrow.  “Well, I hope you remember what they say:  It’s better to be a little too big, than a little too small.”

Before Simon could utter his next retort, Ryan’s mother walked into the room.

“Simon!”

“Connie!”

They exchanged hugs and kisses.  

“You know what?” Connie said to Simon.  “I think you’ve lost some weight since Thanksgiving!”

“Why, thank you!” Simon replied modestly.

_(Of course he has.  Thanks for noticing that, Mom.)_

“I’m sorry we never got a chance to talk at Ryan’s party,” Connie said to Simon.  “I was just so busy that night.”

“That’s all right.  I wasn’t there very long.”

“Did your flight go well?  I’ve been worried all day that something would go wrong.”

“Just fine, thank you.  Rather productive, actually.”

“Well, come on into the kitchen.  Everyone is waiting.”  Connie quickly led Simon by the hand through the house while Ryan followed them unsurely from behind, still waiting for some kind of explanation.

As they breezed into the kitchen, Nana began to get up from the table.  Simon made a beeline toward her, took her in his arms, and exclaimed, “Hello, sweetheart!  I swear you look years younger every time I see you!”

“Oh, Simon!”  Nana replied.  She returned the hug, looked him in the eyes, and said, “For someone so honest, you sure know how to bullshit!”

Everyone laughed, no one harder than Simon, who said, “That’s the Nana I know and love!”

In quick succession, Simon shook hands with Gary, and kissed Meredith on the cheek.  “How’s the hot new boyfriend?” he asked her with a wink.

“Great!” she replied, blushing.  “As a matter of fact, he’s flying out here tomorrow afternoon.  He’s joining us for a late Christmas dinner.”

“What?  I didn’t know anything about that!” Ryan exclaimed, finally finding an opportunity to speak again.  He paused, confused, then continued, “Wait!  Does that mean he’s coming with us when we go to Miami?”

There was a long moment of silence in the room as everyone looked at him.  Finally, Meredith spoke up.  “Uh.... no, Ryan.  No one is going to Miami.”

Simon said, to no one in particular, “Wow, he’s a little slow on the uptake today.”

“That’s what happens when you get old,” said Nana.

“.... just one of many things to go,” nodded Gary in agreement.

Then everyone started laughing, except for Ryan, who was becoming more agitated by the second.  Finally, he exploded.

“Maybe someone could explain to me WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?” 

This just made everyone laugh harder, except for Connie, who took on a placating, motherly tone.  “Simon, why don’t you go help Ryan pack, and bring him up to speed.  The rest of us will finish the dinner.  It’ll be ready soon.”

“Great idea!” said Simon.  “Come, Ryan, there’s no time to lose.”

Together, they walked to Ryan’s room.  Things were slowly starting to fall into place for Ryan as he struggled to control his excitement.

He looked at Simon.  “Your mother?”

Simon giggled.  “Healthy as a horse.  I deserve an Academy Award for my performance.”

“But you were in London.”

“Oh, yes.  I did want to see Mum for the holidays.  My trip home wasn’t done only to fool you.  To add to that, my little story also served the purpose of fooling the newspapers as well.  Otherwise, they might have seriously questioned the lack of jet-ski photos during the holiday.”

“You’re taking me somewhere.”

“Yes.  The plane is being refueled as we speak.  It will be ready and waiting for us by the time we’re done with dinner.”

“And everybody else knew.”

“Well, duh.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret,” said Simon as he winked at him.  He paused, then added, “But, don’t worry, it’s someplace that specializes in discretion.”

“Can you tell me what kind of clothing I should pack?”

“Mmm, preferably none at all,” whispered Simon as they entered his room.  “But I suppose you should throw together some T-shirts and shorts to be on the safe side.”

“For how long?”

“Until you need to leave for New York.  Maybe sooner if I get bored with you.  But if I don’t, perhaps you can come back after New Year’s.”

Ryan pulled out his suitcases.  “And you’re SURE that this place is discreet?  I don’t want a photo of us showing up on  _The Tonight Show_  again.”  It had been nearly six years, but Ryan was still traumatized by what had occurred the last time they had been caught taking a vacation together.

Simon rolled his eyes.  “Yes, I’m SURE.  Besides, you have more power at NBC than Jimmy Fallon does.  More power than most people anywhere in television.  Anyone will think twice before making innuendo about you these days.”

Ryan was stunned to hear such a compliment coming from Simon.  Normally, he was too competitive for that, as was Ryan.  He hoped these sentiments expressed by Simon were a byproduct of goodwill brought on by Ryan’s birthday.  The alternative explanation, that Simon’s wounded ego had reached its nadir, was unsettling.

Ryan shook his head and rejected that concept.  He quickly became preoccupied with piling clothes into a suitcase, vaguely aware of Simon standing nearby.  Then he heard the giggling start.  He knew, without looking up, what Simon was doing.  Eventually, the giggling grew louder, turning into laughter.

“Alright, which one are you looking at?” Ryan finally asked.

“ _Off-Season Conditioning Best Attendance_.”

“She needs to throw that one away.”

“Oh no!  I love it!  I don’t understand why you don’t have it back your house, hanging on a wall beside your Emmy.”

“That would be EmmyS, as in plural.  Not that you have any.”

“I do, too!”

“You have an  _honorary_  ‘International’ Emmy, whose value, I believe, is about half that of my Daytime Emmy.”

“I wonder if it’s too late to call Paul and ask him to go on vacation with me instead.”

Ryan closed his suitcase, turned, and looked at Simon.  “Do you honestly think that you would have a better time with Paul than you would with me?” he asked with a smile.

Simon smiled back, “No, I think it’s safe to say I would not.”

“Well, let’s get going then.  Dinner should be ready by now.”

***************************

 **ECLIPSE.**   The time spent during the lengthy plane ride went by quickly, helped by the fact that Simon seemed to be in a better mood than he had been in months.   Throughout the flight, he affectionately teased Ryan about turning forty, throwing back to him the same insults that Ryan had been saying to him for years.  The closer they got to their destination, the more excited Simon became, and Ryan slowly realized that Simon wanted this vacation just as much, maybe more than, he himself did.

The plane made a smooth landing at a small airport and pulled into a private hangar.  Ryan had no idea where they had landed, but as they walked out to the waiting town car, he could feel the warm breeze on his face, smell the ocean and sand, and hear the crashing waves.  When Simon silently draped his arm over his shoulders and pulled him close, he thought it might just as well be paradise.

As their car quietly made its way through the deserted streets, Ryan looked up at the thousands of shining stars visible through the open moon roof.  He couldn’t see the moon itself, and he contemplated the possibility that he was in another world.  The driver eventually turned into a nondescript opening hidden amongst a thicket of tropical bushes and trees.  They passed through a security gate and continued along a secluded drive, coming to a stop as the headlights revealed a luxury villa.

Together they got out of the car, and Ryan practically floated along the walkway that led up to the villa’s front door.  He thought back to the way he'd been feeling just a few hours ago and marveled at the difference.

“Ready?” Simon asked with a wink, pausing before turning the handle.

“Are you?” countered Ryan with a grin.

Simon opened the door and walked inside.  Ryan hung back slightly, fully anticipating the interior to be gaudily decorated with an abundance of black crepe paper and helium-filled balloons and “Over the Hill” banners.  Instead, he was greeted by a fanciful Mediterranean-inspired decor, romantic lighting, and the quiet strains of Frank Sinatra playing in the background.   After a moment, he also became cognizant of a soothing combination of subtly sweet fragrances.  He glanced about at his surroundings and quickly located the sources.  Numerous bouquets of freshly cut lavender had been placed throughout the villa’s lavish living area, as had dozens of lit white candles that Ryan was quick to identify as vanilla-scented.  Obviously, Simon had made arrangements ahead of time specific to Ryan's tastes.

As the driver silently deposited their luggage and slipped away, Ryan’s attention was drawn toward a covered silver platter placed prominently on a table in the center of the room.  Noticing his curiosity, Simon walked over to it and lifted its lid.  Inside was an impressive display of different types of freshly baked cookies.  Ryan inhaled.  They must have been taken out of an oven only minutes before.

Simon gestured toward the cookies.  “You see these?” he asked.  “We are going to eat them, not flush them down the toilet.”

Ryan grinned and nodded sheepishly in reply.

“Let’s walk out the back,” Simon suggested.

They stepped outside onto a spacious deck.   It abutted a docking area, and Ryan could make out two jet-skis a short distance away, bobbing up and down in the waves of the ocean.  

Simon stood next to him and, with a nod of his head, said, “Those are for tomorrow.  Given your advanced age, I’ll have no difficulty racing against you now.”

Ryan laughed.  He leaned over the deck railing and looked down at the white sandy beach, then out at the water, and finally up to the sky.  “This is all wonderful,” he stated simply, turning to face Simon, who was watching him intently.

Simon reached out and pulled him close.  He slowly placed his hand on Ryan's cheek before planting a brief kiss on his lips.  Simon disliked overtly emotional sentiments, but Ryan thought this particular occasion called for them.  He looked directly into Simon’s eyes and quietly said, “Thank you.  You have no idea what this means to me.  What  _you_  mean to me.”

Simon opened his mouth as if to say something, but abruptly stopped in hesitation.  And Ryan knew, even after all these years, that it was still a struggle for Simon to say it.  Ryan decided to make it easy for him.  He gave Simon a little smile, and said, “I love you, too.”  Simon visibly relaxed, smiled back, and said, “Well, of course you do.”

Simon's next kiss was more powerful.  Ryan wrapped his arms around Simon’s neck and opened his mouth, granting access to his tongue.  Simon’s hands roamed, pushing underneath Ryan’s shirt to touch and caress his bare skin, moving the shirt up and down, until he eventually pulled it off altogether.  They broke apart long enough to stumble back inside, tugging each other in different directions as they unsteadily worked together to find their way to the bedroom suite.

Once inside the bedroom, the kisses continued, increasing in intensity, broken only when Simon paused to remove his own shirt, and again to pull the bed covers down, and finally to push Ryan down onto the soft mattress before climbing on top of him.

Ryan turned his head to the side, leaving his neck exposed.  It was his silent, understood signal for wanting to be taken, to be dominated.  Simon reacted knowingly, lunging like a vampire, attacking the side of Ryan’s neck with his mouth, using his lips and tongue and teeth to travel up to his ear, then taking the time to nuzzle the length of his jawline with his nose before diving in for another aggressive attack at his neck.

This went on for maybe a minute, or maybe it was an hour, and just as Ryan was feeling as though his brain would explode from the lust, Simon suddenly stopped.  Ryan turned his head back, opened his eyes wide, and looked up at him.  Simon cocked his eyebrow, and smiled slightly.

“Tell me.  Are you a virgin?” Simon asked in a low, throaty voice.

It was the same question that Simon had asked the first time they had ended up in bed together, over twelve years ago.  Back then, he had asked it mockingly, taunting Ryan, attempting to demean him.  Occasionally, Simon would still ask him the question, but it was different now.  He would ask it for nostalgic reasons, when he was feeling particularly sentimental about landing Ryan.  The original malice behind the question had disappeared years ago.

Ryan flirtatiously lowered his eyelids, and whispered the same reply he always gave, the same reply that he had used that very first night:

“ _I’m whatever you want me to be_.”

Simon closed his eyes and moaned.  He reached down and undid Ryan’s jeans.  The jeans, underwear, and socks all came off in quick succession.  Ryan lay there, his naked body completely exposed for Simon’s viewing pleasure.

Kneeling upright above Ryan, Simon took a moment to appreciate the sight of Ryan’s erect cock.  Then he suddenly grabbed Ryan’s wrists in each hand and forcefully pinned them down by his sides into the mattress.  Simon slid down, took Ryan’s cock in his mouth, and began to devour it.

Ryan spread his legs wide open to give Simon more room.  Moments passed, and then he couldn’t resist:  he began thrusting upward in sync with Simon’s downward movements.  But Simon reacted quickly, digging his forearms down into Ryan’s thighs with surprising strength, forcing them to stay in place, before continuing with the act at hand.  The feeling of being restrained, at a time when he wanted nothing more than to let loose, created an intense dichotomy in Ryan’s mind and body.  A sound involuntarily emanated from him that was half moan, half cry.  The mixture of frustration and pleasure was so completely confusing that he needed a release in order to put things right.  A release that was coming too soon….

Suddenly, Simon instinctively stopped and let go of Ryan.  Ryan wasn’t capable of opening his eyes, but he heard Simon slide down off the bed, and remove what was left of his own clothing.  He felt Simon climb back up as he rolled Ryan over onto his stomach.  Weakly, Ryan drew up on his knees and eagerly stuck his ass up in the air.  But Simon pushed it back down.

Instead, Simon began gently rubbing Ryan’s shoulders.  Slowly, he moved his hands downward, then back upward, massaging Ryan’s back, working out the kinks and knots and relaxing the muscles.  As Ryan moaned, this time with pure pleasure, Simon gradually worked his way down to his smooth ass, where he began slowly caressing and massaging his butt cheeks, over and over.  The phrase “more than a handful is wasted” briefly entered Ryan’s thoughts, before he anxiously forced it back out.

Ryan could hear Simon’s breathing become heavier and more labored.  Simon’s hands briefly moved further downward, grabbing at Ryan’s rock-hard hamstrings, before quickly sliding back to the softness of Ryan’s ass.  Simon spread Ryan’s cheeks apart, and began to rub his perfectly pink hole with his thumbs.  Again, Ryan slid his knees upward, and raised his ass in anticipation, silently begging for more.

Simon didn’t push him back down this time.  Instead, Ryan heard the unmistakable sound of a tube being opened.   _Where did the lube come from?_ he briefly wondered, before being swept away by the feeling of Simon’s fingers as they entered him, first one, then two, as Simon slowly stretched and manipulated, preparing him for what was to come.

Then the fingers were gone, replaced by something bigger, harder, stronger.  As Simon’s cock gradually went deeper and deeper, Ryan’s muscles moved to take him until he had him all the way.

Simon grabbed onto Ryan’s hips with both hands, and slowly pulled back, before pushing forward again, slightly faster this time.  He pulled back, and then began a steady rhythm of thrusting and retreating, all the while squeezing and pulling Ryan’s ass toward him.  Ryan expertly used his muscles to catch at Simon’s cock with every thrust, drawing him deeper for longer, simultaneously pleasing Simon while prolonging his own stimulation. 

Everything seemed to get harder, faster, hotter.  As his arousal reached its peak, Ryan’s moans turned into whimpers, which only intensified Simon’s rut.  Simon’s possessive grunts became louder and more frequent.  Then, suddenly, Simon stopped.  Leaning down over Ryan’s back, he brushed his lips against Ryan’s ear.

There was never any talking whenever they had sex, once the foreplay was over.  Simon had issues with it, feeling that the effort required for talking and listening was too distracting.  It had taken Ryan some getting used, since his natural inclination was to verbalize every thought and feeling that entered his head.  But Ryan was a quick study, and he had learned that certain sounds and movements and gestures did more to excite Simon than any dirty talk.  So, now, it was a complete and utter surprise to Ryan that Simon had paused to whisper in his ear:

“ _My God, your ass is fabulous.  So fuckable.  I can’t believe that it’s all mine_.”

Ryan almost came then and there.  Simon raised himself back up, reached around with one hand to grab Ryan’s cock, and began to stroke it, before quickly returning to his frenzied movements as though nothing had happened.  

Ryan came in a matter of seconds with a low cry, pushing his ass up further, giving it all to Simon.  Simon followed shortly thereafter, with a long, slow hiss as he filled Ryan with his warmth, holding his ass close.  Then Simon dismounted, and collapsed on his back beside Ryan.  Ryan moved toward him, reaching out for the arms that he knew would pull him close.

As Ryan felt himself fade into a post-coital unconsciousness, he thought he heard Simon murmur, “I love you, Care Bear.”  Ryan assumed that he was already dreaming.

***************************

 **NEW MOON.**  Ryan awoke from a delightfully hazy sleep to the reality of pungent cigarette smoke drifting over his head.  His eyes rested on Simon, propped up against the bed’s headboard, wearing an expression of utter contentment.  He noted the faraway look in Simon’s eyes.  

“Thinking about me?” Ryan asked with a note of satisfaction.

“No, I’m trying to decide between the chocolate chip or the oatmeal raisin.”

“Oatmeal raisin is for old people,” Ryan declared with a laugh.  “You can have those while I eat the chocolate chip.”

Simon giggled and snuffed out his cigarette.  Ryan pulled himself up beside him, and Simon gave him a little hug.  Together, they sat there, silently holding each other.  Then Simon cleared his throat.

“Actually, there is something I want to ask you,” he said.

“Hmm, is this the part where you propose?” Ryan teased.

Simon sighed, then said, “Not in this lifetime, sweetheart.”  

Ryan detected the catch in his voice, and he knew not to push the joke any further.  “Okay, what?” he prompted.

“My girl band, Fifth Harmony, has been busy working on a new album,” Simon began.  “Their first album did fine, but I think they’re capable of much more.  I want to give them a big push this time around.”

Simon paused, but Ryan didn’t say anything.  This conversation seemed out of place, and he wasn’t sure where Simon was going with it.

Simon continued.  “The girls are all young and pretty, and have a good sense of humor.  They’re hard-workers, and they’ll do what they’re asked.  On the plane ride to your parent’s house, I started thinking about how they would be perfect material for a TV show…. a reality TV show on, say, an American cable network.”

Now Ryan’s attention was piqued.  After a moment of contemplation, he remarked, “Sort of like the singing Kardashians.”

“I was thinking of it as a mash-up between the Kardashians and the Spice Girls.  It seems like a great idea, but I’m not sure how to proceed.  My production company doesn’t really have any experience in this area.”

Again, Simon paused, then looked directly at Ryan.  “So, I was wondering if you would like to help me put this together and get it on the air.”

Ryan’s heart started beating faster.  “Sounds like you want to come work for me,” he half-jokingly suggested.

“No!  Not  _for_  you, but  _with_  you,” Simon emphasized.  “This would be a joint Syco/RSP production.”

“RSP/Syco, you mean.”

“Whatever.  The details aren’t important at the moment.  But I need to get moving on this, since the timing is crucial.  I really want to do it right, and you’ve obviously had some success with this sort of thing,” Simon admitted.  He paused before continuing, “And I think it would be nice to work together again.”

Ryan’s brain was running a mile a minute.  He loved the concept of the show, he was confident he could sell it, and he was beyond excited by the idea of working with Simon again.  It had been so long, and he missed it.  He had resigned himself long ago to the idea that their situation would never again allow them to have a high-profile working relationship, and it always saddened him.  However, a behind-the-scenes relationship was different.  It all sounded perfect.

Simon shook him a little.  “So, what do you think?” he prompted.

Ryan disentangled himself from Simon’s arms and sat up a little straighter.  Deep in thought, he rubbed his face with his hands.  Finally, he said, “I’ll tell you what I think.  I’m thinking of the all the possibilities.  How about some cross-promotion?  At least some of the girls will need boyfriends, or should be pursuing boyfriends.  How about the One Direction boys?  Think they’d be up for it?”

“I take it that means you’re interested,” Simon grinned.  “And now that you mention it, Harry has been looking for a good…. uh, girlfriend.  That whole Taylor Swift thing seems to have been forgotten.”

“Well, there we go.  We could designate one of them be Harry’s girlfriend.  Oh, no, wait!  Two of the girls could  _fight_  over Harry.  THAT would be even better!”

Abruptly, Ryan slid off the bed.  Completely naked, he quickly walked over to the business desk at the other side of the room.

“Looks like the view indoors is better than the one outdoors,” Simon observed quietly.

Ryan made no indication that he had heard him.  He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen off the desk and started writing.

After a minute, Simon asked, “ _What_  are you doing?  Drawing up a contract?”

Ryan paused briefly to look at him.  “I’m writing down ideas for the show as they come to me,” he answered.  “I want to make sure that I don’t forget anything.”

Simon laughed and rolled his eyes.  “I think that can wait.  It's not  _that_  urgent.”

“No, no, they’re coming too fast.  I need to get them down.”

“Don't tell me that I’ve created a monster.”

“No, baby, this monster has been around for years.  You just never got a chance to see it.”

“That’s because I’ve always been too preoccupied with the monster that showed up in my bed,” Simon smirked.

Ryan was too busy writing to respond.  Eventually, he grabbed a blanket and sat down at the desk.  It took a while, but finally the ideas stopped, and he reviewed what he had written.  He smiled.  He already had enough material for a whole season’s worth of shows.

Eager to share his notes with Simon, he walked back over to the bed, only to discover that Simon was sound asleep.  Ryan sighed.  He knew that Simon had had a long day; he decided to let him sleep.

Ryan climbed back under the covers and pressed the soles of his cold feet against Simon’s legs to warm them.  Simon stirred, mumbled something that sounded like “penguin,” and fell back asleep.  Ryan allowed his racing mind to slow down, and he began to contemplate the changes that come over him since that afternoon.

 _Maybe_ ** _this_** _was what had been missing in his life._   He had been searching for his next big professional goal, but maybe it wasn’t about the work itself; rather, it was about  _who_  he was working with.  Something that could complete him personally, as well as professionally.  It had been a long time since he had felt this excited about a project, and he knew that Simon’s involvement was the reason behind it.

 _And, really, what was the big deal about turning forty?_   It was just a number, and people were always saying that you’re only as old as you feel.  And, right now, he was feeling younger than he had in years.

Ryan rolled onto his side and curled himself into Simon’s body.  He closed his eyes and relaxed into its warmth, thinking of all the desires it stirred inside of him, and of all the passion he was able to provoke from it.  Ryan reflected back on how satisfying the sex had been that night.  Drifting off to sleep, he smiled as one last thought came to him:  

_And maybe his ass wasn’t too big after all._


End file.
